"I like you," said the child, looking up in Amity's face. "You are not pretty, but you are lovely. Why do you wear black? Is your mother dead?"
"Yes," said Amity, her lip quivering a little.
"Mine is dead, too. Who takes care of you now?"
"Grandpapa and Aunt Julia."
"Mrs. Franklin takes care of me. She is good, but she is not like mother. Is that your aunt?"
"Yes, that is Aunt Julia. What is your name?"
"My name is John—John Hamilton."
"And mine is Amity Bogardus."
"Say it again—slow, please. Amity Bogardus," he repeated once or twice. "There now, I sha'n't forget. I don't know much, you see, but when people are good to me, I like to remember them. Thank you, 'Amity Bogardus.'"
"What did that child say his name was?" asked Miss Julia, when they had finished their lunch and were in the carriage again.